Annalee had her 6 month checkup today! She is:
Height: 2'1" (13.82%)
Weight: 17lbs. 1.6oz (63.63%)
Head Circ.: 44.2cm (90.62%)
She still has an ear infection, so we are going to start her on some stronger antibiotics this evening. Poor kid won't sleep unless she is propped in her swing. And I am very hesitant to leave her there for super long periods of time (overnight). This has made for some long nights lately. That, combined with the nightmares Jack has been having every few nights means very patchy sleep for Ryan and me (yes mom, me, not I).
Now, if you are here to read about the kids, that is all I have to say about them in this post so you can stop reading. This next part is something I have been thinking about for a few days and really need to get out in writing. Therapeutic writing, really.
Amanda died last Friday. Ryan's best friend Zach is Amanda's husband and Amanda and I were good friends. We saw them nearly every Friday night until Ryan and my kids were born and then we hung out as often as possible depending on Jack and then Anna's schedule. At the end, we didn't see nearly enough of Amanda.
When she went to the hospital last Easter, I was one of the first people to get to the hospital to hear the news. In the back of my head I knew it was a possibility that she might die, but that thought never really entered the front of my brain until last week. She had made it through the leukemia treatment and was home for different intervals of time. Just a month ago, we all got together as a group and, well she was bloated from the drugs she was on for an infection, it never crossed my mind that it would be the last time I would see her awake.
It was an infection in her lungs and then an infection in her gut that eventually took over her body. It wasn't the leukemia. For me, the fact that she beat her cancer, just to succumb to complications from infection is a low blow. And there are so many "what ifs" that run through my head. Yes, I realize that there is no point to dwelling on the "what ifs" after the fact, but I am not in a mood to stomp them out today.
Not everyone I know understood or appreciated Amanda's quirks, and that is okay. She was a unique individual who had different view points then many of my friends. But we loved her and in the end, that is what really matters. She brought a special light in to a room when she entered and her beauty inside and out inspired people to come out of their boxes and love life as much as she did.
Amanda had just gone back to school to get her generals done and was planning to become a teacher for younger children (think preschool/kindergarten). She was taking piano classes to fulfill one of the generals and was loving that she and Grace, her 11 year old, were able to practice and learn together. She would send me a writing assignment to edit every once in a while. Whereas I was tired of school, Amanda was eating it up and really figuring out what she was going to do with her life when her youngest, Sophie (5) got in to kindergarten. She was excited to start earning money to help her family thrive. Her outlook in life and throughout her sickness was very positive and I think that is a pretty rare quality to have as you get older.
Today, as I write this, I find myself thinking of past experiences I had with Amanda and wishing I had thought of them when she was sick and reminisced with her while she was still here. I wish I would have done a lot of things while she was sick. During my pregnancy with Annalee, I spent a lot of time thinking about myself. Again, I realize that the past is the past, but if I could go back and do this past year over, I would have taken more time off to go to the hospital. I would have gone out to the house more frequently to just spend time with her while I was on maternity leave. I would have made it to the hospital during this last infection while she was still awake and spent time with her. Part of the grieving process has to do with regret and I can't help but feel it. Amanda's passing is not about me. It is about her three beautiful daughters, her husband and her family. We are here to comfort them and help in any way possible. To do anything else feels selfish.
And the thing is, for most of us, during the weeks and months after Amanda's funeral, life will go on. We will return to our daily lives and celebrate Amanda when we see little things in the world that remind us of her. For Zach and the girls, though, they lost a piece of their puzzle and they are going to have to figure out how life fits together while missing a part of themselves. The heartache they feel right now is so much larger. Now, I am not downgrading the feelings that anyone else has, I am merely going at it as a person who lost a parent at a young age. That dull yearning for that parent never goes away. And, though I am sad about the loss of Amanda nearly every minute of each day since she left us, I believe with all my heart that when you lose someone that important to you at such a young age a piece of your heart actually dies with them and the feelings those girls and, I imagine, Zach have right now are so much deeper than ours that my heart breaks a little bit every time I think about it. I wonder if that very long runon sentence makes sense...acht na ja.
So, this is a very large bit of writing to say that I am sad. I am sad that I lost a friend. I am sad that my kids will never know the wonderful person that Amanda was. I am sad for Zach and the girls. And I am sad for all the family and friends who lost someone so special at such a young age.
This whole ordeal has really made me start to contemplate what is really important in my life. As soon as I come out of my cocoon that is me processing this, I think we will probably join a church and get the kids baptized. Then, we will write a will and settle what will happen if something tragic happens to one of us. Ryan will still play baseball and softball, to spite me, I think, but I will be more willing to pack the kids up to see his games and I will probably be more pushy about his skipping some to spend some quality time with us going to parks and on walks. There is much more, but at this time, I am contemplating.
To those of you who know me, you know that I do not vocalize feelings. It just doesn't feel good. But, please know that when I don't say it, I love you. And when I don't speak to you for a while, yes, I might be mad, but you will probably never know. And by the time we do speak, any anger will have gone away and, well, let's admit it, probably be replaced by some good old fashioned Catholic guilt.
So, in conclusion (because I hate conclusions), peace be with you, all of you. And Amanda, we love you and will never forget you. Rest now, my friend, and know that we will watch out for your girls and they will be loved.
Love,
The Knollmaiers
Height: 2'1" (13.82%)
Weight: 17lbs. 1.6oz (63.63%)
Head Circ.: 44.2cm (90.62%)
She still has an ear infection, so we are going to start her on some stronger antibiotics this evening. Poor kid won't sleep unless she is propped in her swing. And I am very hesitant to leave her there for super long periods of time (overnight). This has made for some long nights lately. That, combined with the nightmares Jack has been having every few nights means very patchy sleep for Ryan and me (yes mom, me, not I).
Now, if you are here to read about the kids, that is all I have to say about them in this post so you can stop reading. This next part is something I have been thinking about for a few days and really need to get out in writing. Therapeutic writing, really.
Amanda died last Friday. Ryan's best friend Zach is Amanda's husband and Amanda and I were good friends. We saw them nearly every Friday night until Ryan and my kids were born and then we hung out as often as possible depending on Jack and then Anna's schedule. At the end, we didn't see nearly enough of Amanda.
When she went to the hospital last Easter, I was one of the first people to get to the hospital to hear the news. In the back of my head I knew it was a possibility that she might die, but that thought never really entered the front of my brain until last week. She had made it through the leukemia treatment and was home for different intervals of time. Just a month ago, we all got together as a group and, well she was bloated from the drugs she was on for an infection, it never crossed my mind that it would be the last time I would see her awake.
It was an infection in her lungs and then an infection in her gut that eventually took over her body. It wasn't the leukemia. For me, the fact that she beat her cancer, just to succumb to complications from infection is a low blow. And there are so many "what ifs" that run through my head. Yes, I realize that there is no point to dwelling on the "what ifs" after the fact, but I am not in a mood to stomp them out today.
Not everyone I know understood or appreciated Amanda's quirks, and that is okay. She was a unique individual who had different view points then many of my friends. But we loved her and in the end, that is what really matters. She brought a special light in to a room when she entered and her beauty inside and out inspired people to come out of their boxes and love life as much as she did.
Amanda had just gone back to school to get her generals done and was planning to become a teacher for younger children (think preschool/kindergarten). She was taking piano classes to fulfill one of the generals and was loving that she and Grace, her 11 year old, were able to practice and learn together. She would send me a writing assignment to edit every once in a while. Whereas I was tired of school, Amanda was eating it up and really figuring out what she was going to do with her life when her youngest, Sophie (5) got in to kindergarten. She was excited to start earning money to help her family thrive. Her outlook in life and throughout her sickness was very positive and I think that is a pretty rare quality to have as you get older.
Today, as I write this, I find myself thinking of past experiences I had with Amanda and wishing I had thought of them when she was sick and reminisced with her while she was still here. I wish I would have done a lot of things while she was sick. During my pregnancy with Annalee, I spent a lot of time thinking about myself. Again, I realize that the past is the past, but if I could go back and do this past year over, I would have taken more time off to go to the hospital. I would have gone out to the house more frequently to just spend time with her while I was on maternity leave. I would have made it to the hospital during this last infection while she was still awake and spent time with her. Part of the grieving process has to do with regret and I can't help but feel it. Amanda's passing is not about me. It is about her three beautiful daughters, her husband and her family. We are here to comfort them and help in any way possible. To do anything else feels selfish.
And the thing is, for most of us, during the weeks and months after Amanda's funeral, life will go on. We will return to our daily lives and celebrate Amanda when we see little things in the world that remind us of her. For Zach and the girls, though, they lost a piece of their puzzle and they are going to have to figure out how life fits together while missing a part of themselves. The heartache they feel right now is so much larger. Now, I am not downgrading the feelings that anyone else has, I am merely going at it as a person who lost a parent at a young age. That dull yearning for that parent never goes away. And, though I am sad about the loss of Amanda nearly every minute of each day since she left us, I believe with all my heart that when you lose someone that important to you at such a young age a piece of your heart actually dies with them and the feelings those girls and, I imagine, Zach have right now are so much deeper than ours that my heart breaks a little bit every time I think about it. I wonder if that very long runon sentence makes sense...acht na ja.
So, this is a very large bit of writing to say that I am sad. I am sad that I lost a friend. I am sad that my kids will never know the wonderful person that Amanda was. I am sad for Zach and the girls. And I am sad for all the family and friends who lost someone so special at such a young age.
This whole ordeal has really made me start to contemplate what is really important in my life. As soon as I come out of my cocoon that is me processing this, I think we will probably join a church and get the kids baptized. Then, we will write a will and settle what will happen if something tragic happens to one of us. Ryan will still play baseball and softball, to spite me, I think, but I will be more willing to pack the kids up to see his games and I will probably be more pushy about his skipping some to spend some quality time with us going to parks and on walks. There is much more, but at this time, I am contemplating.
To those of you who know me, you know that I do not vocalize feelings. It just doesn't feel good. But, please know that when I don't say it, I love you. And when I don't speak to you for a while, yes, I might be mad, but you will probably never know. And by the time we do speak, any anger will have gone away and, well, let's admit it, probably be replaced by some good old fashioned Catholic guilt.
So, in conclusion (because I hate conclusions), peace be with you, all of you. And Amanda, we love you and will never forget you. Rest now, my friend, and know that we will watch out for your girls and they will be loved.
Love,
The Knollmaiers
